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Thursday, October 31, 2013

A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, Rayne and I were newlyweds sans human children. (We had a dog.) Rayne went to Munich for Oktoberfest that year and came home with real lederhosen. Brown leather pants, the suspenders, the hat, the whole shebang.

The conversation, I believe, went something like this:

Me: What the...?
R: They're real lederhosen!
Me: I see that.
R: I didn't buy the shoes, though.
Me: Well, good for you.

A week or so later, I was perusing our credit card bill.

Me: Honey? What is this charge for $494.32?
R: Oh, those are the lederhosen. I told you about that.
Me: You paid FOUR-HUNDRED-AND-NINETY-FIVE-DOLLARS for them?
R: I didn't buy the shoes!
Me:

You see, when we got married, we pooled our financial resources and agreed that we would speak to the other if we wanted to buy anything that cost more than $500. So he didn't buy the shoes.

Right....

I proclaimed then and there that my dear life partner would wear those lederhosen on every Halloween or other occasion requiring a costume FOREVER IN PERPETUITY in order to amortize the cost over his lifetime.

And so four years later, I present you Halloween 2013: Yoda with his minions, Princess Leia and Han Solo (or should we call him Hans?), who apparently just returned from Munich.

Moral of the story: Don't mess with the Moo Cow.

ps - Why didn't anyone ever tell me that doing Halloween with a toddler is like entering a war zone? I'm scarred for life.

Deb is a freelance writer and mom. She lives in the Bronx with her husband, toddler son and a sweet but neurotic corgi. She blogs regularly at Urban Moo Cow, a place for thoughtful analysis of modern parenting ~ with a side of humor.

Monday, October 28, 2013

Welcome back to The Brilliant Book Club, a collaboration of five parent bloggers. To learn more about BBC, read this post or follow us on Facebook, G+ or Twitter with the hashtag #BrilliantBookClub.

And don’t forget to read what my co-founders Lauren, Jessica, Sarah and Stephanie have to say about this month’s book, Playing to Win by Hilary Levey Friedman. Links to their posts are below.

Pedigree Revisited

Last month, I asked the question, "Do I really have to do this?" in regard to obtaining the "Competitive Kid Capital" Hilary Levey Friedman argues is so critical to middle- and upper-middle-class youth in her book Playing to Win.

I concluded, reluctantly, that I probably would. While some parents will undoubtedly sign their kindergarteners up for competitive soccer with gleeful abandon, I will be a much more ambivalent, circumspect participant in the rat race.

Since then, I had a interesting encounter that served to underscore my conclusion. I was having a phone interview for a consulting gig. After I explained my background and experience, the interviewer asked where I went to school. I told him.

"Oh," he responded, "that explains it," the that in question being my Ivy League academic credentials. Not the lengthy explanation of my ten years of experience. My degrees.

The experience was demoralizing for me because it served as a reminder of how often human beings rely on easy labels for categorizing and identifying others. My academic pedigree is short-hand for competence, deservedly or not. On the flip side, my husband's west coast state school background does not equally corroborate his just-as-impressive-as-mine resume.

The Business of Competitive Kid Capital

Back to Playing to Win, the concept of the "business" of creating Competitive Kid Capital struck me while reading last month. As Levey Friedman notes:

[T]he teachers and coaches...make a living by creating an environment to create Competitive Kid Capital and by creating and sustaining a base of families who believe that Competitive Kid Capital is essential to future success.

From organizing the actual events to equipment to miscellaneous merchandise,

The cottage industry of childhood competition captures families in a vulnerable moment and charges higher prices because they can, similar to what occurs in funeral markets.

Unlike the funeral industry, however,

[T]he industry of competitive children's after-school activities has become so commodified and profit-oriented, with little to no regulartion of their practices.

Yikes. I had not thought of the business aspect before this, but it makes sense. Our consumerist culture has yet left no stone unturned... why start with this one?

A recent New York TimesRoom for Debate feature asked the question, "Do competitive sports overwhelm childhood or enhance it?"

Let's play a game (see what I did there?): Match the title of the article to its author.

Did you guess that Article #1, "Sports Teach Kids Valuable Lessons," was written by Author E, Stephen D. Keener of Little League International? He writes,

While striving to win, children learn about teamwork, leadership and sportsmanship, all of which can contribute to their development as solid citizens.

Well, of course he thinks so. It is in his best interest to believe in the benefits of organized youth competition.

And did you guess that Article #3, "Keep Sports Fun," was written by Author D, Mark Hyman, who writes,

We know why kids drop out of youth sports, too. They're not having fun anymore. They’re weary of the pressure. They’re tired of being yelled at by coaches and, sometimes, by their parents.

Not surprising from someone who wrote a book entitled, "Until It Hurts: America's Obsession with Youth Sports and How it Harms Our Kids."

Think For Yourself

My point is, I suppose, caveat emptor -- buyer beware. Before you sign your children up for fifty sports at the urging of the local coaches or drop out entirely and leave your children's proverbial dance card empty, think about where all these messages are coming from. Before you succumb to buying fourteen teddy bears emblazoned with the logo of your little one's dance squad, decide what is right for your family, for your children.

In the chapter in which she interviews the competitive grade-schoolers themselves, Levey Friedman speaks to a first-grade boy who says he does not like competition, that it hurts his stomach. She writes,

His parents both jumped in, saying that the more experience he gets, the less his stomach will hurt. Obviously children sometimes tell adults about their stresses, but the adults often try to dismiss or rationalize them.

Oh, please don't ever let me be that parent.

The inevitability of participating in these activities aside, I hope we all know that destiny is not foretold. While my Ivy League degrees have undoubtedly opened doors for me, I sometimes wonder if I would have been better off at a less pressurized undergraduate program, where I might not have felt so unprepared following my mediocre public school education. My husband, on the other hand, has created a very successful career for himself in finance "despite," as one might say, his lack of academic pedigree.

Ask yourself honestly how much is enough and how much is too much for you and your kids. Small changes may help enormously with coping with the stresses of American culture while not really changing the end game all that much.

Mothers are the breadwinners in two-thirds of American families, yet the American workplace is uniquely hostile to the needs of parents. Weaving in surprising research about the dysfunction between the careers and home lives of working mothers, as well as the consequences to women’s health, Alcorn tells a deeply personal story about “having it all,” failing miserably, and what comes after. Ultimately, she offers readers a vision for a healthier, happier, and more productive way to live and work.

Our post on Maxed Out will be on Monday, December 2. Read along with us and add your two -- or fifty -- cents when we post!

Please be sure to read this week's posts by my Brilliant Book Club co-founders:

Deb is a freelance writer and mom. She lives in the Bronx with her husband, toddler son and a sweet but neurotic corgi. She blogs regularly at Urban Moo Cow, a place for thoughtful analysis of modern parenting ~ with a side of humor.

Deb is a freelance writer and mom. She lives in the Bronx with her husband, toddler son and a sweet but neurotic corgi. She blogs regularly at Urban Moo Cow, a place for thoughtful analysis of modern parenting ~ with a side of humor.

Friday, October 18, 2013

I was feeling grumpy tonight so I went out for a walk. I wanted a snack, but I have been trying to lose a few pounds (okay, more than a few), and I couldn't decide what, if anything, would be worth the calories. The internal conversation went something like this:

I want a snack.I shouldn't have a snack, I'm trying to lose weight.But I'm so pissy tonight. I just want a snack.No, I'll regret it later.No, it will make me feel better.Not in the long run.Okay, if I can think of something amazing, I'll get it.Okay.I know! Banana pudding with 'Nilla Wafers from that amazing cupcake place!Good idea!Yay!Yay!

Deb is a freelance writer and mom. She lives in the Bronx with her husband, toddler son and a sweet but neurotic corgi. She blogs regularly at Urban Moo Cow, a place for thoughtful analysis of modern parenting ~ with a side of humor.

Friday, October 11, 2013

Yes, it's true. I ride a Citibike -- the lovechild of evil corporation Citibank and soon-to-be-former Mayor Bloomberg -- AND participate in a CSA. No need to look so shocked. Or comment so dryly. Just keep minding your own business, and I will avoid pointing out the ludicrousness of your horn-rimmed spectacles and non-matching pant legs.

Oh, wait, one more thing. You should sit down for this. I am a progressive Democrat AND I love Bloomberg. Given the choice, I might even vote him in for a fourth term. According to Fareed Zakaria in The Future of Freedom, liberal autocracies have a pretty good track record. (Illiberal democracies, not as much.) I blew your mind with that one, didn't I?

Just kidding. I heart democracy. (But I would still vote for Bloomberg again.)

Hard as it is to believe, despite the complete absence of tattoos and superfluous piercings, I live in hipster Brooklyn, too. And although I function independently of the hive mind that produced the idea for artisanal mayonnaise, I still want to feed my family fresh, organic produce.

Woah, woah. Try not to breathe so quickly through your mouth. Do you need a paper bag?

Listen, I have an idea for a compromise. I won't comment on the amount of smoke you blow in my face, and you can shut your fat trap about my choice of transportation. If only Congress could come to terms so easily.

Mwah!

Love,
Moo Cow

ps - You make me want to move to the Bronx.

pps - I'm sneakily linking this up with Finish the Sentence Friday because I love the hosts and have always wanted to participate. Once in public, I saw somebody... unleash a snark attack on an unsuspecting mom just trying to feed her family fresh produce and be a good citizen in the process. Oh wait, that happened to me. This evening.

Deb is a freelance writer and mom. She lives in the Bronx with her husband, toddler son and a sweet but neurotic corgi. She blogs regularly at Urban Moo Cow, a place for thoughtful analysis of modern parenting ~ with a side of humor.

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Today I am being interviewed over at Kathy Radigan's blog, My Dishwasher's Possessed. Kathy, if you don't know, is the very cool, very sharp and very nice (the trifecta!) co-founder of BonBon Break, an online magazine for moms.

In the interview, I talk about the origin of Urban Moo Cow, why my car hates me and the appliance I would do some kinky moo cow shit to possess.

Deb is a freelance writer and mom. She lives in the Bronx with her husband, toddler son and a sweet but neurotic corgi. She blogs regularly at Urban Moo Cow, a place for thoughtful analysis of modern parenting ~ with a side of humor.

Monday, October 7, 2013

And so it begins. The dreaded New York City preschool application process.

Henry is only 21 months old. But the cut off in New York is December 31, a few short weeks after his birthday, and applications are due a year in advance.

And so it was that Rayne and I found ourselves sitting in a classroom at our local cooperative preschool, surrounded by palpably nervous adults, two guinea pigs and a yellow squawking bird. First we took a tour. Art work from children with names like Brixton, Tobias, DiDi and Zelig adorned the walls. Then we returned to the original classroom for Q&A.

The director of admissions seemed eminently reasonable despite being interrupted by the bird. She made a point of suggesting parents calm down. Her basic mantra was, 'our policy is this, but we work with what you and your child need.' Squawk!

Still, the questions were pointed and repetitive, as if the questioners did not believe her when she said it the first time. What is your separation policy? What is your discipline policy? Squawk! Where do the children nap? Do you teach the alphabet?

"I know it's controversial, but we do expose them to letters and numbers." She seemed to be apologizing.

Deb is a freelance writer and mom. She lives in the Bronx with her husband, toddler son and a sweet but neurotic corgi. She blogs regularly at Urban Moo Cow, a place for thoughtful analysis of modern parenting ~ with a side of humor.

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About Me

I’m Deb. I live in New York with my husband and our son, daughter and neurotic corgi. Once, in the sleepless days of my son's first weeks, I caught my husband beaming at us nursing. You are a very good Moo Cow, he said, kissing me on the head. A nickname was thus born. Urban Moo Cow offers thoughtful analysis of modern parenting ~ with a side of humor. Thanks for stopping by! (Photo credit: Sarah Brooks)